


our love remains

by Woodswolf



Series: in one universe [4]
Category: Lego Ninjago
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Alternate Canon, Character Death, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Love Triangles, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 12:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18873505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woodswolf/pseuds/Woodswolf
Summary: "the couch is always open," she tells him one day.and that's enough.(in one universe)he realizes it's already too late.





	our love remains

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [waiting to be found](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18830392) by [karasunonolibero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunonolibero/pseuds/karasunonolibero). 



> the third of a series of four short, related oneshots, each based on a panel from [this post](https://woodswolf-writes.tumblr.com/post/184905082525/unsends-in-one-universe). this third part is based on the bottom left panel.
> 
> another story i wrote a few years ago, [a love letter, maybe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14012367), is vaguely connected to this series, though it's not necessary to have read it to read this.
> 
> the title comes from the song "Our Love Remains" by rei brown.

_ (in one universe) _ he realizes it's already too late.

it's been a while since they saved the world. the city is rebuilding. there are new places, new faces. whether they're new to them, or just new to him, he neither knows nor cares about the difference.

there's so much that's new that it's overwhelming. but in the midst of all the new, there are a few things that are less-new. and he holds on to those for dear life.

his son is one of those things. misako is another.

the day they save the world, she asks him where he's going to live now. he admits that he hasn't really thought about it. he hasn't really thought about any of these complicated logistical things since he left society at large more than forty years ago. almost fifty, by now.

because he can't -  _ won't _ \- go back to the lighthouse, for lots of reasons. but he can't really go back to the workshop, either - too many memories there, both good and bad. and there's nowhere else that's obvious.

so no, he has no idea what he's going to do. and he doesn't even know where to start now. but she laughs kindly, and her eyes twinkle with generosity. and then  _ (in one universe) _ she says "you can crash on my couch for a while, if you want. until you can figure something out."

_ (in this universe) _ she has a decent-sized apartment in the city. the main room is very homey, with red plush armchairs and a matching couch. a well-worn wooden dining table and chairs to match. the entire space is covered wall-to-wall in bookshelves, the wood stained a rich dark brown.

there's only one bedroom, which she shares with her husband now that he's reformed, back to normal. but that's none of his business.

the first night, she gives him a spare pillow and blanket from a closet. she tells him to make himself at home.

against his better, somewhat-traumatized judgement, he does.

* * *

everything passes quickly. somehow, for once, he's fine with it.

everything falls into a comfortable rhythm, day by passing day. wake up. talk over breakfast. go to the public library. use a computer to search for apartments. find nothing. eat a second meal in there somewhere. interact with zane and his friends at some point for some amount of time. go (back to misako's) home. have dinner with the two of them (or occasionally three, whenever wu comes to visit for the evening). talk, play cards, read a book, or just sit in comfortable silence with her and her husband (and sometimes her brother-in-law) until they all get tired. say goodnight. sleep.

misako is too kind, he realizes one day. he doesn't know if that's a flaw. she opened her home to him when he was essentially a stranger. she makes an effort to include him in things, even when he would dare not speak up.

she makes him feel like he's a part of something, besides his family. or maybe she's family too? but it doesn't make sense. she already has a husband and a son and in-laws and he is exactly zero of those things. he doesn't fit there.

but he admires her from afar, all the same.

eventually he finds a place. it's bare bones, cheap, little more than a room with a bed. he could afford something a bit nicer, but he doesn't bother. it's an excuse to spend what time he can at her apartment, rather than alone at his place.

so he's still there, with her, almost every night. he has nowhere better to be.

(and he does notice that, even though he's not technically living there anymore, the spare blanket and pillow she gave him were never stowed away in the closet where they'd been before. instead, they remain sitting out almost invitingly on the empty end table next to the couch, the blanket cleanly folded and the pillow freshly fluffed.)

(and whenever he crashes violently after a long, exciting night playing cards, or dozes off quietly while reading a book, or blinks and finds that it's suddenly six in the morning, she just laughs and tells him that it's no big deal, and then calls him over to the kitchen for breakfast.)

(and whenever one of them has had a bad day, they can sit together and talk about anything. and there's no judgement, only words. and sometimes there's not even words, sometimes there's just closeness, proximity. and sometimes there's not even that.)

(sometimes there's just the feeling he gets in his chest when he looks at her. that even though the world is sometimes dark and scary, he's always safe with her.)

(and it's in these little gestures, these little moments, that he slowly comes to realize that he loves her.)

(he loves her, and she has someone else. and even if they can't be together he still wants to spend the rest of his life around her.)

"the couch is always open," she tells him one day.

and that's enough.

* * *

but  _ (in this universe) _ there's one day when he wakes up with a purple bruise on his chest, and he doesn't know why.

it doesn't hurt, but he's worried, because it feels like an omen. he decides to just wait - to watch it and see what happens.

it's bigger the next day. and the day after. and the day after that.

(he's starting to feel just a little bit afraid.)

he withdraws into himself. stops staying overnight. he's tense, because he doesn't know what this means and he doesn't know what to do. but he does know, more than anything else, that he doesn't want to lose this chance. he doesn't want to lose what he has.

but  _ (in this universe) _ he wakes up one morning, alone in his own apartment, and he smells  _ rotten flesh. _ he smells rotten flesh and he takes a look at himself in the tall mirror and he sees the gigantic purple bruise covering his chest and sides and beginning to spread across his back and legs and arms. and right in the middle where it all started the skin is decaying and the organs underneath it are dying. and somehow it still doesn't hurt.

(it doesn't hurt  _ yet. _ )

and he knows now that it's over. it's all over. because he loves her but he's going to lose her because he's going to lose himself. and there's nothing he can do.

he cleans the wound and wraps it and he can't tell if it still actually smells or if he just thinks he can smell it. and he figures out what he's going to do, because he has no choice left.

so he goes to her apartment, one last time. they slip back into the old, comfortable routine one last time. and when it's night and everyone else is asleep, he folds the blanket and takes the pillow and he puts them both back in the closet where they were before, all those eternities ago.

he wants to leave a note. he wants to tell her what's happening. he wants to tell her where he's going. he wants to tell her not to wait for him.

he wants to say  _ i love you. _

he wants to say  _ i'm sorry. _

but he does none of these things. he does none of them because he can't afford them. he does none of them because he can't admit them.

he slips out of the apartment like a ghost in the middle of the night. and then he walks away.

* * *

(he doesn't know this, because he never goes back. but it still happens.)

(she walks into the main room and expects to see him, somewhere. but he's not there.)

(she finds the pillow and blanket not on the end table or still spread across the couch, but cleaned and neatly folded back in the closet, where they had been so long ago.)

(she calls his son where he's living with his friends. her own son answers the phone and says that he left a while ago to look for his father.)

(his son calls her later, to ask if she's seen him. she doesn't know how to answer the question.)

(they never see him again, because he's already disappeared off the face of the earth. but even years later she still thinks of him, sometimes.)

(she thinks of how she felt about him and -  _ (in this universe) _ \- wonders if he felt the same.)


End file.
